


antiheroes (at heart)

by pinkchangbin



Category: Stray Kids, Villains Series - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Alternate Universe - Villains Series, Angst and Feels, Chan and Minho are enemies but in love, Chaos Ensues, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, M/M, Minho and Jisung are best friends, Morally Grey Themes, Other, Platonic Relationships, Romantic Angst, Sexuality Crisis à la Internalized Homophobia, Villains AU (v.e. shwab), everything falls apart, lots of changes, religion stuff, the plot is weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 21:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19777267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkchangbin/pseuds/pinkchangbin
Summary: Lee Minho is strange. He isn't the fake deep, mysterious boy everyone at school is in love with - he is legitmately questionable. He keeps to himself minus his closest (and only) friend, Han Jisung, and is insanely clever. Minho also lacks what people call a stable moral compass (he's a nihilistic, sardonic, manipuative boy who has pretty much nothing to lose). There are only a few obstacles in his way: his unrequited love for Jisung and of course, his bizarre relationship with the new kid, Bang Chan. Bang Chan, on the other hand, is equally weird (for the lack of better vocabulary). On the outside, he's a perfect little golden boy, but on the inside he's conflicted and eventually, dangerous. He has his own tragic back story that makes his true personality confusing, and he tends to pick and choose when it comes to ethics. When the two criminology majors join forces to solve an out of the ordinary case, their hunger for becoming unstoppable increases. Sacrifices are made, people suffer, and hatred rips relationships apart - all in the name of ambition and power.





	1. The Transfer Student

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm back!! It's been a hot second since I put my (nonexistent) writing career on hold and I have returned with a fantastic shit fest of a story inspired by V.E. Shwab's Villains Series (it's amazing, highly recommend you read it). Anyway, I'm in the midst of developing the story line and I'm still trying to discover a writing style, so forgive me for any strange plot holes and weirdly short (or long) chapters. I am most certainly trying my best and I aim to deliver something that's actually complete + makes a decent read. Feedback is appreciated and I hope y'all enjoy <3

Lee Minho was _not_ a regular college kid. For starters, he was a genius criminology student and with this, his parents were self-help writers. His entire life, he was alone. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have friends, but rather, that he didn’t need them. He didn’t really _need_ anybody. His parents were just there to act as a source of income (he had long ago admitted to himself that he wouldn’t be able to be here if they didn’t put a roof over his head and feed him adequately). The boy sitting across from him was somebody who he had simply gotten used to being around so often, that the two practically did everything together. Minho had met Jisung in middle school, one was a quiet introvert and the other, a wildly loud extravert - yet here they were, like two peas in a pod. Minho supposed that Jisung was the only person he truly considered a friend. Minho also supposed that Jisung saw him as a brother. He would be comforted by the idea, if it weren’t for the strange, sad fact that was Minho’s silent one-sided love for him. What a _fucking pity_. There were _much_ worse things that could happen though; Minho could sense trouble coming his way this year.

*****

 _The Morning of October 30th 1999_  
_Minho’s POV_

“Minho! Hey, Minho!” the younger, unnaturally ginger haired boy yelled across from the corridor, backpack half slung on, slipping from one shoulder.

The black haired senior looked up from the book he was reading as he walked and slipped his headphones off. “Hello, Jisung,” he spoke calmly, his tone contrasting with the chirpy one Jisung had.

Jisung smiled brightly, “Did you hear about the new student in your department?” 

Minho looked unfazed, “I did not. Anything special about them?”

“He’s really smart! Like really, _really_ smart… I think you’d get along well actually - if you’d like we could invite him out to lunch today?”

Minho contemplated the idea for a few seconds; social interaction for fun was never actually fun, but perhaps meeting someone else he could relate to would be nice. It’d be better than trying and failing to explain his case studies to Jisung, who was studying engineering.

“Sure, sounds good.”

Jisung grinned again and Minho could feel his insides going mushy. Disgusting, honestly, how _easily_ he was swayed by the other. He was apathetic to everything and everyone, except for this one goddamn boy. It was beginning to become a problem; maybe this new student would take his mind off his petty, useless emotions.

\-----

Bang Chan had an undeniably charming appearance, even from afar. His smile for one, all pearly-whites and sparkly eyes, but Minho could see right through him. The facade was only good to get girls tripping over their feet and boys worshipping his masculinity. Minho was unimpressed but still intrigued; was his new competition really that competent? He guessed he’d just have to find out. It was a game really, figuring people out - exciting at times, boring at others.

Chan approached the dark haired boy across the canteen, Jisung in tow, talking animatedly as usual. The newly transferred criminology student had platinum blond hair swept back with a simple black beanie, contradictory to his pale, porcelain-like skin. Minho took note of the pitch black crucifix around his neck, as well. As the two boys got nearer to the table, Minho stood up, putting on a polite smile. 

Chan smiled elegantly in return, extending his hand towards Minho. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Bang Chan. Chris is okay too, if you want.”

“Lee Minho. Nice to meet you, Chan.”

The three boys sat around the table, Jisung leading the conversation. Apparently, Chan “Christopher” Bang came from a smaller college in his hometown, he decided to transfer to receive ‘better opportunities.’ How generic. He enjoyed what he was majoring in and he wanted to become a forensic scientist. Also typical. Lots of kids in their major wanted to pursue a career in forensic science, few actually stuck with it. He was raised in Australia until the age of 12; that was interesting enough. The conversation eventually steered towards Minho, Jisung excitedly prodding him on. He said the usual:

“I didn’t enjoy much growing up. Criminology and psychology seemed appealing enough; dissecting the minds of ‘villains’- ‘good’ and ‘bad’ - all that fun stuff.”

Chan seemed mildly perplexed. His smile still there, eyes exuding a different emotion. “You say that as if good and bad aren’t really what they seem to be.”

 _Finally_ , something to keep the conversation alive. Minho wondered where this was going.  
“It’s because they’re not - unless you’re religious.”

Chan tilted his head onto his hand, his soft grin turning into a sly smile. It sounded like he was being challenged.

“Do tell, then.”

Jisung scoffed lightly, rolling his eyes at the two older boys, “Don’t let him, Chan. Once he starts, he won’t stop.”

Jisung was ignored. Minho started. Chan interrupted. They went on like that for an hour until Jisung ran to his next lecture; it was just the two of them alone now. 

Minho eyed Chan for a fleeting moment; the other boy was bizarre. He knew people that argued that religion was better than science and vice versa, but Chan didn’t do any of those. He said that the two went _hand in hand_. It was like a contradiction within a contradiction. Minho wasn’t an atheist because he hated religion, he just strongly disagreed with the concepts of ideal morality being forced upon mankind. The loopholes and exceptions, the hypocrisy and _faith_ ; this idea of an all-knowing anchoring itself to the purpose of existence in itself. Human beings were simply flesh and bone with minds to control them. To Minho, it was like oil and water. To Chan, it was that one depended on the other. Minho didn’t actually mind though, it gave him something to think about - to analyse. A new take on an old topic, from a different person with a different mind. 

\-----

As soon as the conversation ended and the two senior students met again every so often for lunch with Jisung, Minho noticed the unchanging facade. He thought that he could get Chan to spill his guts to him after what went down a week ago. The other boy actually piqued his interest, and now Minho genuinely wanted to understand him. There was something about him; the way he was stubborn yet lenient, charming but hiding something - Minho was _sure_ of it. He saw parts of himself in Chan (minus the unnecessary pretty boy tactics) and he wasn’t one to get all sentimental, it just made sense for them to be friends (sort of the way it was for Jisung and him - but that turned into something much more complicated). That being said, Minho was Minho, so he didn’t make it obvious that he actually cared. He appeared unamused whenever Chan hung around Jisung and him because he was unamused; he was waiting for the moment when Chan would stop with the people-pleasing bullshit and show off the side that he’d seen not too long ago. _Normal was overrated._ He knew that if there was one thing he and Chan had in common, it was that they weren’t ordinary. It wasn’t his intuition telling him this and it sure as hell wasn’t a God complex, it was something that made itself evident when they spoke properly.


	2. He's (not) The Golden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two weeks since Minho and Chan met, two weeks since they've been on each other's minds. Chan feels like Minho can see right through him, and Minho is just itching to to pick the other boy apart. It's a short-lived rivalry turning into an odd friendship and Chan doesn't know how to process all of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof okay,, so I wrote this a while back (in november when I started this work) and it's kinda crusty?? I mean at least we have Smexy Vampire Looking Chan descriptions and Edgy college kids on rooftops but uh,,, the plot,,, she is slowly becoming evident. feedback is always welcome (although it should be taken into account that I am Sensitive) and I appreciate everyone who takes their time to read rookie works like this <3

***

 _2 Weeks Later: Mid November_  
_Chan’s POV_

Chan sighed for the nth time that day; he decided on combing his hair back with his fingers and throwing on a gray beanie rather than showering, he didn’t have the time to go take a real shower. Being a criminology major with a minor in biology was a strange enough combination, and it also meant he was bombarded with assignments every week. He could never catch a fucking break. It was always, _‘No, one more chapter to read, one more report to complete, one more sheet of notes to take - then I’ll sleep!’_

However, there was one thing that had changed over the course of his years as a university student, obviously the new school and campus, but there were also new people. There was Jisung and then, there was _Minho_. Minho - the straightforward, sarcastic, skeptical, dark haired boy with a dangerous glint in his eyes and a daring curl to his lips that just screamed, _‘I’m better than you.’_ Chan didn’t know if he wanted to befriend him or one up him. They both seemed like viable options, if only Minho didn’t constantly seem so disinterested with his presence. 

Seated on his small bed, back to its headboard and legs crossed with notebooks and loose papers splayed on the blanket before him, Chan let out a bitter exhale. Minho bothered him sometimes. He didn’t even need to say much to bother him, just the way he carried himself was intimidating enough. He recalled a few days ago, Minho was casually speaking to Jisung and said something along the lines of, _‘Being a people pleaser isn’t much fun, now is it?’_ Those same words followed him around as he continued to be ‘Chan: resident pretty boy from a foreign country’ - enough stories to tell to keep crowds entertained and quite a few tricks up his sleeve to woo the girls. _‘No,’_ he had thought in the moment, _‘No, it isn’t bloody fun, but some of us have to be like that to get around in life.’_ It sounded dramatic, but Chan was raised an outcast. 

Wouldn’t an Australian kid living with a distant aunt in some small town in the middle of South Korea feel out of place? Wouldn’t a boy whose parents had died on separate occasions, both being freak accidents, feel like his life was falling apart? Chan learned how to be ‘normal ’and then he learned how to be ‘charming.’ Meanwhile there was Minho, who lived his life proud of being ‘different.’ How lucky. If Chan could, he would’ve been too, if it wasn’t for the pitying looks he got from adults and the derogatory words he heard being directed towards him in hushed whispers at school. Being like this, living life like it was some sort of theatrical spectacle, it was simply so that he could gain as much as possible. Why would he want to be peculiar, odd, unusual - when he could have the upperhand in how he was treated, when he could manipulate the way he was seen? Getting around with people was important and no one needed to see him as he truly was, if he wanted to continue to be in control. Minho was challenging that; he knew something about him that he wasn’t supposed to. The way he eyed Chan and tested the waters with topics that hit dangerously close to home. Chan didn’t let anything slip his tongue when they had that long debate about the universe and existence, ethics and morals, life and death; he didn’t _remember_ saying a word that could make Minho think twice about who he was really speaking to. Yet, the clever bastard guessed something was off, and it seemed that he saw right through him. (It also didn’t help that he was kind of hot, for the lack of better vocabulary.)

So now Chan felt like he was being cornered into picking a single option: pouring his heart out to the other boy. At the same time, he felt as though perhaps - just maybe - he was over analyzing. Maybe Minho didn’t really suspect much, maybe he was always skeptical of people who got between Jisung and him. Maybe, he was just like everyone else and felt irritated at the idea of the new kid trying to pry his way into his friendship and status as top-of-the-class.

Chan huffed and pulled out his packet of cigarettes from the bedside table. Grabbing the leather jacket draped around his desk chair, he slipped into some comfortable black sneakers and headed to the rooftop for a smoke. Ironic how he was studying the functions of the human body and still felt inclined to partially ruin his own. 

\----

“Fancy seeing you here,” said a voice behind him. It was Minho. The mocking tone was obvious, but he seemed intrigued at Chan’s choice of stress relief.

“I guess you’ve found out about my hideaway _and_ my bad habits, congrats on that Sherlock,” Chan replied equally sarcastically. 

“What? You think I’m investigating you now? You’re not that special Channie - just mildly interesting.”  
Chan scoffed at the nickname, “It’s funny how you ignore me and still seem to know more about me than you should.”

“I’m a psych student, what’d you expect?”

“Or you have sociopathic tendencies and are an obnoxious creep.”

“Whatever floats your boat, pretty boy.”

Chan turned to face the other boy, also leaning on the stone ledge encircling the rooftop, “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? Is it because you’re more than just your looks and apparent extrovertedness?”

“We both know that’s exactly why.”

Minho smirked and Chan’s jaw clenched noticeably, “Please _do_ elaborate.”

“Why should I? Why do you care so much anyway?”

“Caring and being curious are two _wildly_ different concepts Christopher. Sue me, why don’t you, for wanting to get to know someone who I find similar to myself.”

“Whatever. You want to get to know me? You want to know your apparent opponent’s weaknesses? Then you have to tell me the same.”

Minho’s eyes glinted under the setting sun, his devilish smirk forming once again.

“Okay. Truth for truth it is then.”

\----

Minho ended up going first. In the beginning, Chan internally reasoned that either of them could actually be lying the entire time and that the whole game could be a useless waste of breath and brain power, however his suspicions disappeared when he remembered what Jisung had told him earlier. Minho wasn’t socially awkward or necessarily stuck-up, he just chose who wanted to associate with. So far, it was only Jisung that he felt comfortable with, so if he made the effort to actively reach out to Chan, that meant that he actually wanted to get to know him. That was supposedly a good thing… but Chan couldn’t help but wonder, _‘Why? Why does Minho want to know me of all people? Does he find some strange satisfaction in watching this facade crumble piece by piece?’_ However, that didn’t seem entirely true, given how the raven haired boy said something about the two of them being similar to each other. _‘So then,’_ Chan pondered silently, _‘What is Minho hiding under all his dark humour and nihilist remarks?’_

“My parents are Catholic. I’m their cursed runaway atheist kid,” Minho stated matter-of-factly.

Chan kept quiet, he didn’t quite know how to respond that without sounding obnoxious.

As if he had read his mind, Minho quickly added, “You don’t have to say anything.” With a quiet chuckle, he told Chan to go next.

The platinum blond boy took a puff of his nearly-gone cigarette, tapping his slender fingers on the concrete, trying to think of something to say.

“My parents are dead.”

Now it was Minho’s turn to feel awkward, except that he had (as per usual) something witty to say, “I would say ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ but I’m sure that to you, those words sound so incredibly shallow and over repeated.”

Chan just half-smiled bitterly, “You’re right about that, but I suppose it’s the thought that counts.”

“Oh _Channie_ , ever the optimist. Would it be too much if I asked how they died?”

“Freak accidents. Except that they weren’t really... someone was after them,” Chan exhaled a large amount of grey, cloudy smoke. “It’s your turn, Minho.”

“This one is going to scare you off for sure,” the jet black haired boy said casually.

“I don’t think it will, you’re strange enough as it is,” Chan replied with a subtle smirk.

“I like boys.” Minho cast his eyes downwards, waiting for a slur to be thrown his way, waiting for some violent reaction. He didn’t know what in the everloving fuck dawned on him to utter those words, but he felt a pang of relief and fear at the same time once they left his mouth. He thought that maybe Chan would run off and then he wouldn’t continue to stupidly tell someone all his shitty secrets for the thrill of it - that wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Chan panicked. What was he supposed to say now? He liked boys too… well, he liked girls _and_ boys. _‘Does this even count? Will I seem like an attention seeker?’_ he screamed at himself in his head, _‘Wait, no. The fact that I have a way to reply without being a complete dick is good in itself.’_

“I do too.”

Minho looked at him with wide eyes (an actual facial expression, other than the usual poker face or smirk, Chan silently noted to himself) before letting out a strained, “Wha-what?”

“Well boys and girls, actually. Bisexuality, perhaps you’ve heard of the term?”

“But aren’t you…?”

“Christian, yes. Stupid, no.”

Minho still appeared to be confused, so Chan was left with no option but to elaborate.

“I’d like to think bible wasn’t talking about homosexuality, that it was discussing pedophelia and that for some dumb reason most Christians are too stupid to see the truth because of their cultural customs … but honestly, I don’t really know anymore...” 

Chan glanced towards Minho, who now had his brows furrowed and his head tilted on his hand, as if he were lost in thought. “Did you turn to atheism because you thought that Catholicism had no place for you?” he asked in a softer tone.

Minho opened his mouth and then closed it, contemplating what to say, “That and many other reasons with it.”

Chan didn’t question him further on the subject, “Fair enough.” Before he could excuse himself to work on his pile of assignments, he looked at Minho for a few seconds thinking of what to say.

“What’s with that gaze, Chan? It’s piercing!” Minho said in a mockingly dramatic tone.

“Are you in love with Jisung?” the blond boy asked abruptly.

“ _What?_ No. Do you even hear yourself?”  


“I-okay. I just wanted to know because you seemed weird when I entered the picture.”

“And that ‘weirdness’ couldn’t simply be an irritated friend wary of a third party?”

“Reflecting back on it and your longing stares in Jisung’s general direction, I’d say no.”

“By that logic, I’d conclude that you seem to be developing quite the crush on me.”

Now Chan was flustered, and it was showing as a light pink blush dusted the tips of his ears and pale cheeks. “That’s-I literally just got to know you, Minho. Just because you’re somewhat good looking, doesn’t mean everyone suddenly fancies you…”

Minho smirked, running a hand through his mop of black hair, “Whatever ya say, _Channie._ ”

And that was all it took to send Chan off to his dorm room with a mess of thoughts and feelings brewing up a storm inside his brain. He hated Minho. He had to. But maybe he found the boy interesting; maybe he just gave the other some satisfaction in peeling his mask off (albeit only partially) and maybe… just maybe, he was okay with that. So they were friends? He couldn’t exactly hate Minho after all that took place. _‘Whatever,’_ he thought to himself, fiddling with his curls as he sat on the desk chair by the window.


End file.
